every breath uprooted
by cyclothimic
Summary: She smiled and licked her lips. "You have lived a life, haven't you?" / "We," he corrected and reached up to cup her cheek. "We have lived a life. It wasn't a life until you came."


**this is a part of the _in your eyes (in your mind)_ and _i will run to you now_ universe. and you'll probably cry so uh...sorry? no, not really. **

**in this story, William is Connor and Samantha is Sandra. i don't know why the arrow writers changed the names but whatever.**

* * *

 _Everything, everything,_

 _A thousand pieces of you,_

 _Lovely, dark and deep,_

 _Every exquisite thing, stolen_

 _Until we meet again_

 _-Book Spine Poetry (Tumblr)_

* * *

" _The history books say you live to be 86, Mr. Queen_."

To be honest, the words Eobard Thawne had scathingly muttered that night had haunted him since the moment he'd fully understood the context of it.

At first, he had thought that 86 years were too long, too late. He didn't want to live until he was 86 to be an old rickety man with no one by his side, but he also knew that he would be doing this for as long as he could and that if he was doing this for the rest of his life, he would never be able to afford happiness. He was fighting to die.

And then, out of some miraculous happening, Felicity Smoak, the love of his life and the one woman he never thought he could have, wanted to be with him. She agreed to run away and drive off into the sunset with him. Then he had started to think that 86 years were too short. He wanted so much more than 86 years. He never wanted to leave her behind again. He had promised he'd never leave her behind again. He wanted an eternity. He wanted forever and always with Felicity.

So he started eating healthy. In terms of his physical fitness, there wasn't anything else he could do improve himself. But he could eat more vegetables, ingest less fat, with the hope that he could cheat fate and live longer by her side.

What he never expected though, was for her to leave before he did.

* * *

It wasn't cancer, or any life threatening illness. It was just old age catching up to her, to them both. It appeared that fate decided to toy with his emotions one last time, by taking her away from him permanently, even at this age.

Oliver hadn't left her bedside since she collapsed halfway through the celebration of her 75th birthday. She was clapping and laughing as their friends, children, nieces, and their godchildren sang the happy birthday tune to her, him by his side, when she tensed and gasped and in one blink, collapsed to the floor.

At that moment, he'd sworn that he would join her on the floor as his heart clenched and his brain short circuited and his grip on his cane tightened.

The doctor had said that her heart was too weak to handle that kind of excitement, even though it was just happiness at her birthday celebration. He'd told them that there wasn't much he could do and they had better prepare themselves for the worst.

If he was still as fit as his Arrow days, Oliver would have pushed the doctor against the wall and demanded he fix Felicity immediately. But he wasn't. All he could do was stare at the doctor with such vehemence that Barry had to drag him away.

Oliver sat on their king sized four-poster next to a still sleeping Felicity, holding her hand in his lap as he stared down at her with patience and mild anxiety. He stroked her skin with his thumb, dragging her parched skin with his movements.

Her face was marred with laugh lines and wrinkles, most of them probably from those times frowning because she was worried about him and the team. He glanced at the wheelchair sitting just there, by their wardrobe, mocking them with its current uselessness. She had needed a wheelchair when she reached around 69, her skeleton finally giving in and making her unable to walk for more than twenty minutes. He had always loved it when he had to lean down to kiss her on the lips. Even with her gaining weight and her complexion getting less and less perfect as they grew older, he still thought that she was the most beautiful woman he had met in his life and he was still so in love with her that he was willing to kill another man if she had asked for it.

"Are you afraid?" He looked up to see Diggle being wheeled into the room by Dinah, white hair growing on his forehead and his eyes filled with sympathy and sadness.

He waited until Dinah took a sorrowful glance at her mother before heading out again. "So afraid," he whispered. He could recall this fear, this fear he'd felt so many times before. When Felicity was taken by the Count or had a sword wielded by Slade Wilson to her neck or locked in a gas chamber by Damien Darhk, this irrational fear had gripped his heart and never let go until he saw her again. This time, however, he knew that this fear was going to come true. "I'm so afraid, Dig."

Diggle nodded in understanding. He steepled his hands and looked at Felicity as well. "Look at us, all of us alive and the one that we least expect to die is sleeping right there," he breathed. He huffed a dark laugh. "Life's a joke."

Life _was_ a joke, but Felicity had made it all the more bearable with her presence. They continued to stare in silence, waiting for her to open her eyes one last time so they could tell her to fight.

* * *

She did wake up, sending them in a frenzy. And then she managed to calm them down with her loud voice even with a heart condition. Only Felicity could do that. Then she demanded to see her friends and children and all those other kids. She wanted to see them.

It was as if she could sense it, even though Oliver and Diggle didn't tell her anything. She didn't give them a chance to.

"I want you to remember that you will always be my son," she told Connor.

"Take care of your brother, yeah? Make sure he always drives safe. And please, give your husband a break, he's a sweetheart. I love you." Dinah.

"Your sister, make sure she always eats and please call her or meet with her as much as possible because her thing with acting is almost as bad as my thing with computers. And _you_ , I know you love racing, baby, but I just want you to be careful, okay? You have a wife and two kids, come on. I love you, alright?" Tony.

"I'll tell Tommy that you've never stopped missing him and loving him," Felicity smiled at Laurel knowingly.

Laurel brushed away a stray drop of tear and managed a watery smile. "Don't you dare. You're gonna be here. I'll go and tell him myself when it's my time."

Felicity only chuckled, not even bothering to refute one of the best friends she'd made over the years. She turned to the rest of their rickety team. "Team Flarrow was always my favorite," she muttered, eyes traveling between their companions – Barry, Caitlin, Thea and all the others. "You guys are my favorite."

All this time, Oliver was just squeezing her hand and watched her leave words. He breathed in and exhaled every time she finished telling someone something, telling himself that he would be prepared for his turn and then he _would not crack_. He would not. Felicity wouldn't want that.

Felicity then turned to him, the smile meant just for him on her face as she lingered on his face. And then she whispered, "I want to speak with John and Barry. Can you and the others leave for a few minutes?"

Oliver looked to two of his friends alarmingly. Barry carried similar expression but Diggle was still calm. He looked back down to his wife who just stared at him with that smile, knowing that it would do him in. He sighed, relenting, and slid out of the bed, taking the cane that Tony had offered him and walked out of their bedroom with the rest of the people, leaving behind Barry and Diggle with Felicity.

* * *

Barry came out of the room fifteen minutes later, wheeling Diggle out. Both of their eyes were red. The former Flash only wrapped Oliver in a long hug before pushing him into the room.

"She wants to see you," Barry said in a strained voice.

Oliver closed the door behind him and stared at his wife who was over there, fragile and dying in their bed. She waved him over and he quickly limped across the room, unable to withstand another moment without her beside him, especially now that their time was limited.

He climbed into bed and held onto her outstretched hand. "Oliver, you're my husband. The least you can do is cuddle with me," she complained, pulling him feebly with her hand.

He complied, slithering one arm under her and flinging one across her stomach, pulling her to him and burying his face into her hair, smelling the scent that only Felicity carried. His brows furrowed as he fought the clinch in his chest and the pressure behind his eyes.

"You know, I haven't heard you say anything since I woke up," she muttered.

He choked and lifted his head so he could speak. "I don't know what to say." His voice came out hoarse and trembling.

"You got anything to tell your parents?" she asked.

He inhaled sharply and shook his head. "Stop."

"Oliver, hey." She leaned back and tipped his chin so they could see each other. "You're so old," she teased, pulling a breathless laugh from him.

"Speak for yourself."

She smiled and licked her lips. "You have lived a life, haven't you?"

" _We_ ," he corrected and reached up to cup her cheek. " _We_ have lived a life. It wasn't a life until you came."

She chuckled, shaking her head innocuously. "Always such a sap," she commented.

"Always for you."

Felicity sobered, her smile dimming into a gloomy one. She slithered her own arms around him and she leaned in to rest her head against his chest. "Promise me you'll continue living. Promise me you'll do as history says and live to be 86. And I promise that when it's your time, I'll be waiting for you and we will continue living up there."

"Felicity," he breathed.

"I'm grateful that you chose to love me and marry me. I couldn't ask for a better life. I couldn't ask for more than this. So let's just…let's just be grateful."

"I didn't _choose_ to love and marry you, Felicity." His lips quirked. "There was no choice to make."

She chuckled and rested her head back again. "I want to see you one last time," she whispered. He opened her mouth but she stopped him by pressing a finger to his lips. "Stop talking and kiss me. Just kiss me."

He clenched his jaw and sucked in a harsh breath. If he kissed her, it meant it would be the end. He didn't want it to end. He was just a selfish prick who was afraid to be alone without the love of his life. He was a coward.

"Oliver, please," she pleaded.

He closed his eyes and relented his strength, allowing the tears to fall. "Felicity," he sobbed. "I don't know if I can –"

"You can and you will," she cut in vehemently, as if mustering her strength for one last spurt. "You _will_. I believe in you." She ran her fingers to his hair, massaging his scalp just the way he liked it. "What did I tell you? Don't fight to die, fight to live," she reminded. "I won't forgive you if you give up now after all those years of fighting. And if you don't shave that terrible beard off," she added.

He laughed in between sobs. "I love you," he said.

"I love you too," she replied. She locked her grip on his neck. "Now kiss me, my love."

And he did. He kissed her, pouring all his might and love and adoration and words into that one kiss, hoping she would get it. He tightened his hold around her when he realized that this would be the last time he kissed her. He felt her chest movements against his quickened, increasing its pace and her breathing grew more labored. But when he tried to move away, she pulled him back, still kissing him.

Realizing what she wanted, he gave it to her, because he loved her and he wanted to give her everything he wanted, especially when this was the last time he could give her something she wanted. He waited, kissing her, not even caring that he was probably going to be struggling for breath when he was done. He just pressed his lips against her and waited as her chest movements began to slow and her labored respiration calmed and her hold on him loosened.

And then everything stopped.

Slowly, afraid and ready, he released her lips, lingering there for a moment, clinging to a desperate hope that he could feel her exhaling against his lips. Seconds later and nothing, and he finally surrendered completely to his utter misery and rage at the unfairness and his loss. He pulled her to him – still warm and soft – and buried his head into her neck.

And then he released a roar that was bordering on inhuman.

 _I love you. Don't leave me. I love you. Please don't leave me. I love you. I promise I'll be good. I love you. I can't do this without you. I love you. I don't know if I can do anything without you. I love you. You are the best part of me. I love you. Thank you for being so patient. I love you. Thank you for loving me. I love you. Promise you'll wait for me. I love you. I'll be with you soon. I love you. Thank you for loving me._

 _I love you_.

Those were the words he wanted to say but couldn't. Those were the words he'd poured into their last kiss, hoping it was enough, hoping she understood.

And she did. She did understand, because she had mouthed _I know_ against his lips before she took her last breath.

And just like that, Felicity Smoak died at the age of 75, leaving Oliver Queen a widower with three children and a team of wonderful friends he wouldn't have made if it wasn't for her at the age of 80.

* * *

 **i cried while writing this. and yeah, there'll be more. so stay tuned!**

 **anyway, did you guys watch the last flarrow episode? were you guys pissed? because i was. i'm so angry at oliver queen. i mean, you would think that after all that's happened, he would be a little smarter than _to lie to the love of his life about his son_. i mean, _come on_!**


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